


Come On

by CharlieRoz



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Zayn, M/M, Male Slash, Smut, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:57:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieRoz/pseuds/CharlieRoz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP. </p>
<p>Zayn and Harry get back to the hotel and they're alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come On

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first ever One Direction fanfiction. Please review :)

“Finally back _at last!_ ” Harry exclaimed happily, running to the couch and sprawling all over it on his back. Zayn shook his head at him as he entered a little more gracefully, fixing the shoes that were thrown around and the bag that Harry dropped off at the door. “I mean that was fun and all, but I don’t know how much longer I could have held up.” He sighed heavily, resting his hands behind his neck. Zayn went to the kitchen as he listened, drinking a glass of water to distract him from the urge to want to smoke. It worked most of the time. But what worked better were more _physical_  answers.

 

He watched Harry as he leaned against the island counter in the center of the kitchen, sipping his drink and fantasizing about the skin that lied beneath the clothes on his band mate’s (and so-much-more’s) body. “So,” he began idly, trying to look around the room innocently.

“So,” Harry repeated like Zayn knew he would.

“We’re alone,” the dark-haired male stated, drinking the dryness of expectation away in his throat. Harry glanced over at him and smirked mischievously.

“Are you coming onto me or something?” he raised his eyebrow and took a hand to pull up his shirt the slightest bit. Zayn rolled his eyes.

“The least you could do is be subtle,” he chuckled and set down his glass.

 

Harry laughed and Zayn seemed to be pulled to it by a magnetic force, pushing off of the counter and striding over to Harry as he sat upright. Harry smiled at him and reached out his hands as soon as Zayn was in reach to yank him down into the cushions. He straddled Zayn’s lap to gain leverage and held his face in his hands—Zayn’s fingers went straight to the mocking shirt that hid his lover’s body and fisted into it, bringing him closer in one swift move until their lips met. Oh, how good it felt to finally be able to kiss him again. Of course Zayn loved the touching and the teasing and the words given to him, but the kisses were _indescribable_. Harry’s tongue was eager to taste his, swirling in his mouth in just the right ways to make Zayn’s knees feel weak. His hand slid to the back of Zayn’s neck and forced him impossibly nearer, leaving no room to breathe, no room to think.

 

Zayn’s bottom lip was nipped and sucked on as he filled his lungs with air and Harry’s unique, intoxicatingly _male_  scent. The realization struck him dizzy, even after all this time, and so he hadn't noticed Harry slipping off his lap gradually. The wavy-haired man inched his hands lower and lower down his chest, lips falling down on Zayn's jaw to be accompanied with slick teeth. Zayn had lost his mind right there and was willingly being dominated by this tainting man.

 

He was distracted by nibbling as Harry worked his way beneath his shirt with his palms, absorbing the hot, tight muscles of his abs and pecs and delighting himself in teasing his nipples. Zayn bit his lip and sighed tensely, one hand strangling a pillow and the other tangling in brown hair.

"Take it off," Harry commanded just loud enough to be heard, his breath level beneath Zayn's clothed collar bone. He glared at Harry for a split second at the thought of using his noodle-arms to strip but realized that he wanted to, _so badly_. So he took the damned thing off and threw it almost angrily across the room, staring at Harry as if asking: Now what? 

 

But Harry would take care of him. He smiled, a little warm, a lot possessive, awing at Zayn's masculine and toned torso, shining in just the thinnest skim of anticipating sweat. He could only admire from afar for so long, however, and soon Zayn was letting his head fall back as that mouth, that contained much more talent than just singing, drove him absolutely mad. First it was his neck— he didn't know why but Harry had a thing for it, always holding it when they kissed, never going a night without at least _one_  hickey, able to be hidden or not. And it wasn't like he minded this infatuation. The licks that followed bites that followed kisses were leaving him breathless and shuddering for more. It was no secret that he loved it.

 

Then Harry traveled to his collar briefly, only stopping to smell his favorite spot in the hollow between the knobs of his collarbone for a quick second, a satisfied growl vibrating his throat. The moan transferred to Zayn's left pectoral like fire, blazing his heart into overdrive. It was clear that Harry's intentions were for further south as he only teased his hardened brown nubs for seconds too short. Zayn had half a mind to force his way there right now, but as their story goes, Zayn was submissive and let Harry— gladly— have his way with him. And this was not the time to spoil a good ending. So he endured the steadiness and begged his heart to slow down, that they were only just starting, that he couldn't lose it when the end was nowhere near. Yet he almost lost it when Harry shamelessly took a grab on his knee to steady himself as he reached between his own legs and loosened the front of his pants for some relief. That was a sight he'd never tire of. 

 

Harry then spread Zayn's legs to drop between his thighs to work on his belt. Zayn helped him speed up the process, unwillingly sending more blood to his groin at his and Harry's hands working together in one frantic mess to release him from his restraints. The belt clattered loudly on the wooden floor of the kitchen and neither had time to care for they were busy lifting hips and removing jeans and waiting for reactions. Harry swallowed hard to keep himself from looking, but from his angle his whole bottom peripheral vision was of a tent made from red boxers. Their eyes were patient as they searched for a go ahead, never really understanding why, after the first time, that they subconsciously felt like they needed permission to ravish the other.

 

"I want to—" Harry mumbled, a faint tiny of red powdering his cheeks as he gestured with a cock of his head to the side. "You look so good from down here." Zayn nearly laughed out loud. 

"You don't look too bad yourself," he managed to only chuckle. Harry rolled his eyes and smirked, deciding to make him eat his words in a more fun way. He suddenly had a hold of the elastic top of Zayn's boxers and the older of the two froze, shivering and blushing the slightest bit. Harry's grin grew as he began pulling them down, slowly, exposing more and more tan skin by the second. He watched the flesh reveal itself and he nearly moaned at it, the looks of it so delicious and warm and soft and _his_. He honestly couldn't help himself as the stretch finally gave way and the fabric was sprung over his solidness. He had to close his eyes and shake his head, a display that Zayn learned to not take offense to— he'd asked once about it, and Harry simply stated, "If I look at you too long, I'm afraid I'd drive myself over."

 

The position they were in didn't allow for a way for Zayn to kick off the undergarment so instead it was stationed halfway down his calves. Zayn couldn't look at him right then, too caught up in the fantastical world in his head of what was to come than to focus on it actually happening. So he didn't see Harry slide between his thighs, make himself sturdy on his knees, and he didn't even feel the palms over his hips. Eventually, all that was there were lips on the inside of his thigh and hot breath fanning out so _close_  to his sensitivity area that he almost bucked.

"Harry, cut me some slack," he was ready to beg, hands fidgeting and awkwardly unknowing of where to go. Lips, again, kissing, suckling, moving their way near the production of pleasure so agonizingly slowly that the waiting just about sent Zayn to the land of premature. And then he felt it— that hot wetness at the start of his length, pausing, testing the waters. It was all in Zayn's power not to jerk into the air. 

 

"Come on," he pleaded, angling his face to the ceiling and shutting his eyes. "C'mon, _please._ ” Reduced to begging. Again. Harry smiled triumphantly and gave in, letting his mate have some fun, too. Harry's mouth moved upward, enjoying the pulsating flesh against his lips as much as Zayn indulged in his slickness. Harry pulled back and wrapped a few fingers around his base to help guide it into his mouth. Zayn's jaw went loose and he gasped in a quick breath, restless hands finding their way to Harry's full, curly, _grab-able_  hair. His eyes fluttered open to bashfully catch a glimpse of the man between his legs, seeing himself disappear into his mouth and _oh god that was the hottest thing he’d ever seen_ _._ He was lucky that he shut his eyes again before seeing Harry unzip his trousers and palm himself because he would have definitely lost it and had a most embarrassing experience.

 

His skin was burning, from the fork between his thighs to his chest and up to his cheeks where a flustered, hot blush had rented its stay. His hands convulsed in Harry's hair, clenching and unclenching as he labored his breathing even, nails scratching his scalp so that he felt the brunette shiver. The sucking— no, it was more like suckling, like a pup desperately searching for mother's milk, and oh, was that an odd way of putting things but the way he was working Zayn made it feel like all Harry wanted to do was finish and drink him dry. Zayn cursed into the sparkling atmosphere religiously, swear after pant after moan. Yes, his boy was talented, that was for sure. And the noises— those little sounds of indecency and corrupt pleasure— coming from his mouth were tantalizing, making him harder, hotter, _closer_ _._ The wet pops and clicks and obscene _slurps_  for dear god, and the sensations of Harry tonguing his tip and bobbing down only to stroke the tissue that wasn't encased in his warm cavern with his hand, then coming back up to drop a salivated kiss to his weeping head and lap up the pre-bliss puddling there. He began counting in his head to prolong the feeling, starting from ten and subtracting one whenever he would hear— and sense— Harry moan around him, either from pleasing himself or from the act he was committing. Safe to say, he reached one in a relatively short amount of time.

 

He permitted himself only a deep-throated growl and an audible hitch of his breath as euphoria hit him; flooded over him, really, with heat rising through his abdomen with an undulation of pleasure. Harry knew it was coming yet he didn't pull off, simply stayed and holy shit he _swallowed_. That in and of itself was enough to make him moan and pump out another dose of heaven. He hadn't even released his clamp on Harry's hair until he finally looked up at him, blushing and satisfied and _what was that on his mouth._

"You taste so good," Harry huskily wheezed, staring up at Zayn through the spaces between his arms, for his hands were still atop Harry's head. He licked his lips and wiped the corner of his mouth and chin as Zayn reversed the lock of his hands and brought them to the sides of the cushion.

"Harry, that was... That—"

"Get your arse to the bed," Harry demanded, rising to his feet to throw his shirt off and yank Zayn to his feet.

 

Zayn stumbled a bit, struggling to hop out of his boxers as the aftermath of his orgasm still wracked his body. Harry watched him, making him stutter even more, and when they were down to his ankles Harry took his wrist and pulled him to the bedroom where Zayn was thrust onto the mattress and crawled on. Somewhere in the process Harry also lost the last article of clothing that kept their naked bodies apart. Zayn felt his challenging presence in the room and let go of a shaky breath at Harry’s stiff member sticking to the bottom of his stomach. The blood yet again flowed freely and filled the flesh amid his legs and he squirmed beneath the pinning gaze of his current lover. He attempted to form a coherent sentence telling Harry something about how amazing he is and how much he wanted him right then, but nothing but air and gasps were heard, Harry hovering above him an laying himself down. 

 

Their eyes met and Harry smiled, the display of joy contagious and infecting Zayn with its powers. He leaned down and kissed him, the upward curvature of their lips eminent. Zayn wrapped his arms around Harry's neck and felt around his shoulder blades that were thin but not skinny, just lean like the rest of his form. Their tongues met and gave kisses of their own, mixing tastes and teasing taste buds. Zayn felt his hips leave the bed and stretch for contact, left leg hooking around Harry's lower back. The brunette sucked on his bottom lip and let them breathe as he repositioned himself to dip between Zayn's legs, the tops of his thighs plastering themselves with a skim of sweat to the bottoms of Zayn's. He was so utterly close and not close enough at the same time that it drove him crazy, again working for that contact that at least fueled his fire in a better way. Harry chuckled at him and tucked his face into the crook of his neck, smelling him and sucking his skin, surly leaving a hickey at the start of his jugular vein.

 

Zayn took this time to roam the canvas of his back, pressing his fingertips into his muscles and sliding them down to take a sturdy hold of his rear, giving it a generous, appreciative squeeze. Harry gave him and look and this time Zayn laughed and did it again just to be funny. Harry rolled his eyes and started to feel about Zayn’s chest himself, all while sneaking his hand down between them to prepare himself. When he was done with that, having Zayn like dough in his hands, he grinded their hips together to get Zayn’s attention. Granted, that wasn’t the most efficient way to do that, but it was _hot_  to see the older male, who was so cool and calm and outwardly collected the majority of the time, writhe against him and be reduced to a babbling, fidgeting mess.

“Ready?” Harry asked tensely, lining up and just barely connecting himself to Zayn and the target for glory.

“I’ve been ready,” Zayn whispered back impatiently, resituating to hang onto his hips. “ _Come on,_  Harry!” And within the pronunciation of the last vowel sound he was being invaded by a thick, familiar force. His eyes rolled back in his head and his teeth clenched together, but he grinned and hissed out a fulfilled “ _Ye_ _s._ ”

 

Harry shook with the addicting tightness as he pushed himself through, securing a hand to Zayn’s hip and the other deep into the blankets they laid on. Zayn was seeing stars already, just by the presence inside him, throbbing and just _moving_ , and by the time Harry began to thrust and kiss him at the same time, he was ready to lose himself with that body.


End file.
